Never Forget
by Wonderrland
Summary: Rory and Amy spend New Year's in their garden in New York.


**Never Forget:**

New York. They lived in New York. They had for over a year now in fact, but for some reason tonight felt like a milestone. It was New Year's Eve and they were bringing in the year of 1940 together, they had their own house now and not the crappy apartment they could afford at the start, they had jobs and they were happy. As happy as losing your extra-terrestrial best-friend thanks to some vengeful Weeping Angels and having to world be at War with Hitler could be anyhow.

Amy had fretted for weeks on end about the war and how every man available was sure to be drawn and quartered. She couldn't lose him. No again. Not for possibly real this time. It had been hard for the both of them to adjust to living in a time so far from their own, Rory still wanted to help – to be a nurse. But of course, not in this day and age. So he settled, for Amy because it was always for Amy, to be something bigger: _A Doctor._

But not just any doctor, - if he were he'd probably would have been sent to war as an Army Doctor, - no, Rory became a Paediatrician, one of the best actually, for miles. And the name he made throughout New York kept him from being drawn. Kept him at home with his wife that he never planned on leaving. Kept him at home to take care of any injured children.

So that's how, on the eve of a new year, on a Sunday, the Williams' were out in their back yard, wrapped up in a blanket as they shared a wooden garden lounger, looking up at the nights sky.

"What's the time now, Rory?"

Rory sighed, trying hard not to make it audible enough for Amy to hear, - a hard job too seeing as she was basically lying on top of him. She had been asking the same question for almost fifteen minutes now and every time he checked it had only been a minute or so. But despite that, he once again uncurled him arm from around her waist and brought it out from under the blanket to look. "Almost 11:57. We've got three minutes to go."

"Are you lying to me?" she asked turning only her head to scowl suspiciously at him. "I swear we've been out here for hours now, are you just trying to get me to lay on you for as long as you can?"

Rory looked at her pointedly, returning his arm to the warmth beneath the blanket. "I don't need to trick you into waiting for the new year for _that_. Besides, it only feels like hours because you keep asking what the time is every ten bloody seconds." She only narrows her eyes at him and mutters something about being cold before turning her face skyward again. "Yeah, well, if I can wait 2,000 years outside a box for you, - you can wait another two minutes or so in the garden under a blanket for the new year to roll in."

Amy does an exaggerated sigh as she shifts to get more comfortable before asking Rory: "So Roman, any new year's resolutions?" her accents, purposely made more Scottish than ever.

"Yeah, I do," Rory replied, nuzzling the top of her head, "but I'll tell tomorrow."

He can basically hear her roll her eyes at that before he hears the smirk when she asks: "What's the time now, Mr Pond?"

Shaking his head, Mr _Pond_ takes brings out his arm to meet the cool air once again and tells his wife that it's almost midnight now. After practically shoving his wrist in her face he asks: "Do you want to count down?"

"Of course I do!" Amy replies gleefully, whipping her hair out of her face and grabbing his arm as she sits up a little to see the face of the clock better in their dim porch light. There's a pause and Rory guesses she's waiting until there's only ten seconds left before she starts to count down in a whisper and he finds out he's correct.

"Ten."

"Nine."

"Eight."

"Seven."

"Six."

When it gets to five Rory ducks his head to the back of her neck, breathing in her warmth and whispers along with her.

"Four."

"Three."

"Two."

"One."

"Happy New Year," Rory whispers as he presses a soft kiss into her neck before leaning back again to watch the stars.

She lays down so her head in resting comfortably on his shoulder and looks up at him. "Happy New Year, Rory." A devilish smile crosses her lips and he can see it out of the corner of his eye and he knows what's coming. "So … what's the resolution, Doc?"

"It's not really a resolution, it's more of a proposition which I'm hoping you'll take."

"Yeah?" she asks, turning to look him in the eyes. "And what's that then? Spit it out."

Dr Williams closes his eyes for a brief second as he takes in a shaken breath. "You know we've always wanted kids, after River but we couldn't?" he begins tentatively, because this has always been a touchy subject for them and he really doesn't want to unintentionally start a fight. However, to his luck, Amy seems to hear something in his voice that tells her this is going somewhere good and so keeps her mouth shut and only nods for him to keep going. "Well, it doesn't mean that we can't have a kid. We could always … adopt?"

She looks … well, stunned. And he's not sure what to do and he's about to take it back before a small smile works its way onto her face. "How long have you been thinking about this?" she asks, eyeing him suspiciously.

He laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. "Quite a while if I'm honest. I've wanted to bring it up for a while now but I've never really been sure when the right time was," he admits, looking at her sheepishly.

"And how long's a while?" she teases.

"Well, if I'm honest I've already got the kid picked out."

"'Picked out'!" she mimics, acting shocked. "They're children, Rory, not bloody Christmas Cards!"

He laughs when she does before replying. "Yeah, I know. That came out wrong but you get what I mean."

There's a pause where he knows she's thinking about this. Like, _really_ thinking about it. And it's one of the longest pauses to ever grace history he's certain. "How old are they?" she finally asks and Rory lets out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"He's one. It's a boy," Rory answers, and if he didn't know any better he sounded rather proud.

"What's his name? Or doesn't he have one yet?"

"He does have one," Rory replies incredulously, because really? What one-year-old _doesn't_ have a name yet? "His name is Anthony."

"Anthony," Amy tries the name out on her tongue. "I like it," she decides and her eyes are sparkling and so Rory can't hold back a returning grin. "How do you know of him?"

"The orphanage brought him in to my practise a couple of months ago, he'd been left out of their doorstep and he needed to be checked over. I've been keeping tabs on him ever since," Rory admits, "he still doesn't have a home. Not even one lined up in the maybe pile. I just thought that maybe … we could? You know. We've always wanted to and I know it's not the same as having own of our own blood but–"

He's cut off mid-flow by Amy's mouth covering his. Kissing him repeatedly in tiny little pecks of affection. "Shut up, Williams before you ruin the moment." She kisses him again before leaning back to look into his eyes. "Your idea is great. Perfect, actually. As always. I'd love to."

"Really?" he asks immediately and he really can't help the sheer excitement that taints his voice.

"Of course, you big idiot! Why wouldn't I!?"

He's the one to kiss her this time and it's longer and only a tiny bit deep considering their conversation topic. "One last thing and then we can go in and celebrate with champagne," he says, shifting so they're both sat on the lounger with their knees drawn up to their chests, it's awkward and more than a little uncomfortable but they'll only be like that for a few seconds longer.

He smiles at his wife once again before looking up at the stars which are shining brightly over New York. When she too looks to the skies they say the same line together they said the year before and would every year after: "Happy New Year, Doctor."


End file.
